


Lust And Patience

by DaydreamDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom Castiel, Edging, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of unrequited underage crush on Dean's part, Older Castiel, Panties-Wearing Dean Winchester, Panty Kink, Power Play, Rimming, Smut, Sub Dean, Teasing, Younger Dean Winchester, mention of teen Dean jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamDestiel/pseuds/DaydreamDestiel
Summary: Dean's been waiting for Cas to get home from work. He's spent all day thinking about him, and he knows just how to help Cas unwind after a crappy day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFriendlyPigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendlyPigeon/gifts).



> This fic was 10000% inspired by [this](http://thefriendlypigeon.tumblr.com/post/171428543554/be-patient-boy-dean-is-young-castiel-is-old%22) gorgeous, gorgeous artwork by [@thefriendlypigeon](http://thefriendlypigeon.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Thanks for inspiring me to write. ;) 
> 
> I've had a bit of a block lately, and then I saw this, and I had to write. For the first time in years I actually skipped spn, because I was so caught up in this. Bless PVR, and I hope you enjoy. <3

Cas is already in his worn out armchair, a lit smoke between his full pursed lips when Dean walks in the door. It’s sticky summer hot outside, and he’s been waiting all day for Cas to get off work. Half-hard since he woke up this morning from another dream about Cas’s hands on his skin, tangled up in his hair as he bent him over his couch and fucked him just the way he liked it. Pretty much for forever, he’d had a thing for their neighbor, but Cas never noticed him. Probably because he was just a kid with a crush, and besides Cas never pays attention to anyone on their street, anyway. He ain’t exactly social.

This is Dean’s first summer back from college, nineteen now, and he’s filled out a bit since he was home last. A little taller, and broader, arms more defined. Something about him had finally caught Cas’s notice earlier this summer when Dean was looking for odd jobs and he’d gotten what he’d wanted for so damn long.

It isn’t really any wonder that he spends basically all of his time now thinking about Cas; about his big hands and his deep blue eyes, those pink lips, and God, his dick has to be the prettiest Dean’s ever seen. Thick and long, curves up toward his belly and flushes dark when he’s turned on. Everything Dean’s ever wanted, and he lives right across the street.

He kicks off his flip flops, and grips his left bicep with his right hand as he watches Cas. Something about the way he hasn’t even looked away from the TV yet twists liquid hot arousal in Dean’s gut. Fully hard teenage fast, the ridge of his cock pushes obscenely at the zipper of his pants. Cas’s got his tie loose and his collar unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up in a way that show off his strong forearms. Powerful enough to wrap around Dean’s waist and hold him still while he pushes into him. Cas sighs, looks tired, and Dean snaps out of his staring. Squirms a little before he walks fully into the living room.

The smell of cigarette smoke doesn’t normally do anything for Dean. If it was anyone else he’d hate it, but it’s Cas, and somehow that makes it sexy. Puffs of greyish-white that float up between them as Dean crawls into his lap. Cas still isn’t looking at him, hasn’t moved an inch. Remote still clutched in one hand. The sound of the crappy cop show he was watching is low enough that Dean barely hears it, and he’s pretty sure Cas wasn’t actually paying attention to it anyway. It’s just part of how he unwinds after another shitty ass day at a job he hates. Dean knows better ways to release tension, so he settles with his legs on either side of Cas’s waist, draped over the arms of the seat. Beneath him Cas is just as hard as he is, but he’s always so good at pretending Dean doesn’t affect him.

“Cas,” he sighs, hands clutching tight at the armrests while he curves his torso and leans down, presses his brow to Cas’s forehead. Needy for attention that he kind of gets off on Cas withholding until the last possible second.

Cas is looking through him, not at him, and Dean’s temperature shoots up, his pulse along with it. “Be patient, boy,” his voice is unaffected, stern, and Dean wriggles a little in his lap with it. “Sit _still,_ Dean.”

So he does. Takes everything he has, but he waits and waits, and then Cas’s fingers skim around the back of his waistband, along the exposed skin just above his ass. Goosebumps spread like wildfire, and Dean shivers while he stifles a gasp. Just stares blankly at Cas’s hair and tries not to go off way too early. He might’ve maybe, sort of been a little impatient for Cas to get home, and he might’ve sort of had a bottle of lube and the house to himself. Sweat prickles up at the small of his back, along his throat. Every inch of him tuned in to the slow, almost absent drag of Cas’s fingers. Beneath him, Cas shifts a little, spreads his legs so that Dean’s perched in between them, and Dean’s breath speeds up.

Anticipation a living breathing thing beneath his skin as Cas dips his fingers down under his waistband and finds out that he’s not wearing underwear. Fuck, the only sign Cas even notices is a subtle shift in the way the smoke is clouding up, making Dean dizzy.

[ ](http://thefriendlypigeon.tumblr.com/post/171428543554/be-patient-boy-dean-is-young-castiel-is-old)

And then his fingers are _right_ there. Pressed up against Dean’s lube-wet hole, and sinking inside of him, just far enough to tease. To punch a desperate whine from Dean’s lips. “Cas, please, I’m ready—I got—I got myself all ready for you,” Dean gasps. Heat and need blot out any trace of humility as he confesses, Cas’s fingers shallowly fucking him the whole time, “Thought about you all day, about—fuck—how good it feels when you sink your fingers in deep, or your cock in deeper. Fuck, Cas. Want you so bad. I didn’t come, wanted it to be with you. Just _you._ Don’t make me wait.” Cas looks at him then, finally, reproach in his his eyes, so hard in the darkness with the curtains drawn and the TV flickering splashes of light over them. So he adds a cracked, fervent. _“Please.”_

For a second, Cas just considers him and there’s this warm weight that always presses itself on Dean’s chest whenever Cas does that, _sees_ him. It’s like every moment spent without Cas’s eyes on him is just a shadow of what life is like when he focuses all of that intensity on him. Lightning sparks of electricity that scatter along Dean’s nerves and flash hot pleasure in his veins. Tense, tense moment where he thinks he might actually come like this, Cas’s fingers barely moving inside him, not a hand on his dick, just the blazing heat in Cas’s eyes, all for him. But Cas knows him—knows Dean’s tells—and the way he’s holding his breath is a dead giveaway. Before he can beg him not to stop, Cas’s fingers are gone and Dean lets out a whimper that makes him shudder with embarrassment and desire for more.

“Get up.” Dean scrambles to, gets his feet under him, still shaky between Cas’s legs. “Take me out.”

 _Fucking Christ, yes._ He doesn’t even try to make a show of it, doesn’t play that he’s got any restraint when it comes to Cas, just tears open Cas’s belt and unzips him, Pushes his boxers down along with his pants until they’re dragged halfway down his thighs, “Good?”

Cas puts out his smoke in the ashtray on the table next to the chair before he answers. Sets the remote down beside it. “Good. Clothes off.”

Fast as he can, Dean strips, it’s not sexy or even efficient. He almost gets caught in the collar of his t-shirt, but he’s bare and waiting fairly quickly. His dick juts out in front of him, a little thicker than Cas’s, though comparable in size, which Dean’s pretty happy with. Red tipped and glistening with precome, a testamant to how long he’s been waiting, how much he wants this. His face heats, his neck, and down his chest as Cas looks him over. From his messy hair, bitten red lips, down his chest. If they weren’t already pebbled up tight, his nipples would’ve reacted to the way Cas licked his lips when he glanced at them.

Dean’s whole body feels strung too-tight. He wants—he just wants—and he knows he’ll get it if he’s patient, he’s just gotta hold out. His eyes drift closed and he feels it right into his core when Cas’s voice, so low and rough, growls his name and forces them open.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, shifts restlessly, but keeps his eyes on Cas’s face, “let me make it up to you?”

A beat goes by while Cas lets Dean stand there, jagged need clawing at him, and then he finally says, “Come here and turn around. You wanted this so bad, I think you should work for it.”

A flush of warmth and sharp, sharp lust rush through his body as Dean complies. Takes a step closer, then turns around. Lets Cas’s hand spread wide on his hip guide him down. The fat head of Cas’s cock presses bluntly against him where he’s wet and open, a drawn out moment of pressure before his body gives and Cas sinks inside him. Pulls him down and down and down until he’s shoved in as deep as he can go. Until Dean’s ass is flush with his hips. Dean pants for it like a two dollar whore, whimpers when Cas’s iron grip holds him there and doesn’t let him move.

“Cas, please, please, I gotta—I need, _Cas,”_ he begs, fingers digging into the arms of the chair, but Cas still doesn’t let him bounce on his dick like he’s desperate to, just slides the hand not holding onto him up along his front, slow burning drag from just above the base of his cock—knuckles that graze against his shaft and Dean wants to cry—all the way up to pinch and roll his nipples.

Pleasure so harsh that it’s almost pain zips right down to his dick. Makes him blurt out a bead of precome that pearls at his tip before it slides down the side. “Touch me, touch me, Cas, please, fuck me. God, I need it.”

“You know,” Cas says, tone conversational like his dick isn’t hard and filling Dean up so goddamn perfect, “I really do love it when you’re like this. Cock-hungry and desperate for me. Like the way your mouth gets dirtier every second I hold out on you.”

 _Fuck,_ fuck. Oh fucking fuck. “God, Cas,” he groans it out in a rush of breath that he can’t control.

“You can call me that if you want,” he teases, and Dean doesn’t think he can take much more.

He wraps one hand around Cas’s forearm and pulls it down to wrap across his hips. Makes a pitiful little noise and clenches around Cas. There’s a soft little hiss behind him and Dean smirks for a second before a hand in his hair tugs his head back, pulls his neck taut. “Dean.”

 _“Fuck,”_ he moans, all long and high.

Cas’s hand slips down to rest against his throat and he finally gives Dean the go ahead he’s been waiting for, “Make me come.”

Christ. He’s so hot, he’s burning up with it. On fire, every bit of him focused on the drag of Cas’s cock inside him as he lifts himself up. His thighs work hard for it, but he rides Cas frantically. Up and down, doesn’t try to angle just right, because he’ll lose it if he does, and right now he’s got one goal: make Cas come. So he grinds back and bounces and swears. Filth pouring from his mouth; how hard Cas gets him, how much he loves it.

Long enough for Dean’s thighs to ache and strain, for sweat to pool in his collarbones, the backs of his knees and the dip of his spine, Cas holds out. He’s not saying much but he never does when he gets close. Just grunts and digs his fingers greedily into Dean’s skin. Helps pull him down harder on every thrust. He grabs Dean’s ass, and spreads his cheeks. Dean just knows he’s watching his cock slide in and out of him, the tight cling of it around hard flesh.

Pressure, then, Cas’s thumb pushes in slowly with a little effort, snug up against his cock, and Dean’s about a second from blowing his load, body tight around Cas, thrilling current of pleasure that jolts under his skin. His thumb slips back out and Cas finally breaks; his hips surge up to meet Dean. He pulses hot inside of him and he fills Dean up until it leaks back out around his cock. Filthy wet and fucking hot.

Exhausted, Dean lets himself collapse back against Cas, feels Cas’s breath hot on his slick skin and he wants to come so bad that his eyes sting. “Please,” he whispers, pathetic little breath of sound, but Cas hears it.

One of his hands smooths up Dean’s side, while his other perfect, soft, big hand curls around Dean’s diamond hard dick. He’s so wet that the slide of Cas’s fist is easy, tight and he arches into it, Cas going soft inside of him, and he’s so close it won’t take long—it never does like this. Not when Cas is whispering up into his ear, “Did so good, Dean. Fuck, you made me come so hard. Gonna be leaking out of you for days, won’t I, baby? You look so good like this. Already wanna fuck you again. Never wanted anyone as much as I want you, you know that?”

“Cas—oh fuck—ah, I’m—”

Words stop existing, or Dean can’t remember how to say them, because his voice cuts out into a moan that’s half Cas’s name, half plea.

“Gonna come, Dean?” he asks, and Dean just thinks, _yes, yes, fuck, yeah._ “I can tell you’re close, so, I’ll tell you what. Come in the next thirty seconds, and we can do this again tomorrow. Got a whole day off to spend with you. Think about what I could do with a whole day—”

Cas doesn’t get to finish the picture he’s painting for Dean. His back bows and his whole body locks up, mouth parted around a silent moan. Heat coils fast at the base of his spine, and explodes outward in a shower of pleasure that pulses wildly through him. Splashes of jizz land on his stomach, his chest and he holds his breath for long moments as he comes so hard that he couldn’t breathe if he wanted to.

Eventually his lungs function again and a rush of air fills them as he slides down in Cas’s lap. Lets Cas hold him, and kiss his temple, the top of his head as he floats bonelessly in the warm glow of an orgasm that he still feels the fading tingles of.

“Fuck,” Dean sighs happily when he gradually surfaces. He slowly becomes aware of the sticky mess that he’s made of them both, but he’s still too worn out and warm to care yet.

“Mmm.” Cas hums, and Dean feels the rumble of it against his back. “We should get cleaned up.”

In reply, Dean grunts noncommittally, and snuggles back against Cas. He’s _comfortable._

“If you come shower with me, I’ll order us Chinese and you can sleep over,” Cas offers hopefully. Dean grins, because that’s a plan that might be worth moving for.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, voice wrecked, “But I want two egg rolls this time.”  

He feels Cas smile against his hair before he agrees and Dean wonders just how the hell he ever got this lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward to Dean's first Christmas vacation since he and Cas'd become a thing. He's excited to finally get some real time with Cas again, and Cas, well, he has plans for that time. Sexy plans. So yeah, Dean's pretty damn pumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is another one that started life as a oneshot. Then along came these pictures 
> 
>  
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> and Charity's endless encouragement when I got an idea to extend this fic.
> 
> So now there are two new chapters of this verse. The fluff, yet again took me by surprise, but I hope you enjoy it. <3

It's been a long time since Dean's had Cas for more than a few stolen hours on long weekends when he was home visiting. It's not that those hours weren't memorable, 'cause they were damn near scorched into Dean's brain, were practically on permanent repeat in his subconscious. But there weren't enough hours, not by a long shot.

And Cas's voice, husking orders at him down the line—it's liquid latex and sin, but there's still only so long Dean can handle just having his own hand and a few toys to get him off. There's an electric hum in his veins poised for Cas's fingertips on his skin to crackle into lightning. 

Long-distance fucking sucks, 'cause Cas can talk as sweet as he wants to him after they both come, but it doesn't even touch the feeling Dean gets when he's wrapped up in Cas's arms, head nestled on that firm chest and the slowing thumps of Cas's heart calming his own. A glow inside of Dean spreading through his body, a satisfaction so much deeper than just an orgasm flowing through him.

Thank fuck for Christmas vacation. Two more days and one more exam and then he's got almost three weeks where he'll have plenty of time to visit Cas.

“Dean?” 

Speaking of Cas, he oughta be speaking  _ to _ Cas. “Yeah, I … um. Just miss you and junk.”

There’s a smile in Cas’s voice, “I miss you too. It’s boring without you around to break up the monotony.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m awesome,” Dean says cockily, shifting to get more comfortable on his back in his tiny bachelor pad bedroom, phone pressed to his ear. It doesn’t help that his dick’s busy tightening up his pants, inhibiting his ability to get comfortable in the first place. “God, I can’t wait to be back. Probably gonna come the second you touch me.” 

Darkness edges into Castiel’s tone, a smoulder that Dean never gets tired of, “As hot as that idea is, that’s not going to happen. I have plans for you, Dean. And they’re gonna need you to last a lot longer than a second.” 

Dean bites his lip and smirks, hand trailing slowly down the front of his white t-shirt. “Yeah? Whaddya got planned?” 

“Are you touching yourself?” Cas asks, ignoring Dean’s question. 

Dean licks his lips, hand stilling at his waistband. “Not yet. Thinkin’ about it.” 

“Mhm. Thinking about it with your hand just above your cock.” 

Blinking rapidly, Dean processes the fact that Cas just absolutely knew what he was doing. “How did you—” 

“Because you have no patience, Dean. I’ll have to teach you some more when you come home.” 

“Yeah? Gonna make me wait?” 

“Yes. In fact,” Cas pauses, voice hard and dominating in that way that’s had Dean all twisted up and ready to give him anything since day one, “I want you to promise me you’re not going to touch yourself. No coming either. Not until it’s me who gives it to you.”

Dean’s breath hitches, cock throbbing for attention. “Cas,” he whines, only a little embarrassed by the way he says it. 

“Dean.”

His stomach jumps, body flaring hot. “Okay … yeah, it’s only two days. I can … I can hold off.” 

“Good. I promise it’ll be worth it.” 

Dean sighs and tucks his hand under his head to keep it off of where he badly wants it. “You always are.” 

***

When he'd said he could make it two days, Dean really hadn't factored in that the last time he'd orgasmed was two days before that. Or the stress preceding and subsequent elation following his last exam. 

A promise is a promise though, even if he'd tried, pretty damn convincingly he thinks, to get Cas to give him permission to break said promise. So Dean had kept his hands off of himself. 

Crossing the road to Cas's house at the first chance he can get away from his family without raising suspicion, Dean smooths his palms over the soft black leather of his jacket. He knows he looks good, the wide ribbed shoulders make him seem broader than he actually is, the tight grey jeans and fitted black t-shirt he's wearing show off his slim waist and bowlegs—things he knows drive Cas crazy.

Not to mention what he's wearing under his jeans.

He's half-hard well before he reaches the door, and his cock perks up even more as he knocks, fingers and toes tingling with anticipation. Or maybe from the cold. 

It's a Thursday evening, so Dean's expecting Cas to either still be in his rumpled suit from work or else in sweats and an old tee by now, but that's not what he sees when Cas opens the door. When Dean had messaged Cas a half an hour ago, he must've gone all out. 

Holy fuck, he's in a dark fitted suit, a sharp white button up with the cuffs visible at the ends of his blazer standing out in stark contrast and drawing Dean's eyes to his wrists, to those big hands he's been thinking about non-stop since the last time he felt them on him. 

Finally, he drags his gaze upward, and there's a vibrant blue tie around Cas's neck, so close in color to his eyes that he must've had help picking it out. He's fucking gorgeous, hair all messy in the front the way he knows Dean likes it, stubble that Dean can't goddamn wait to feel scraping all over him. 

There's just a hint of a smirk teasing at the corners of Cas's lips, and Dean's breath almost wooshes right out of his lungs at the unconcealed desire in his beautiful eyes. 

How does he forget, when he's not there, just  _ exactly  _ how stunning Cas is? How hot? 

Maybe forget isn't the right word. It's not that he doesn't remember that Cas is hot as hell, it's that knowing that he is still never prepares Dean for coming face to face with him—for his presence, and the intensity of his gaze all focused on Dean. 

He doesn't even get his brain to cooperate on a greeting before Cas places something warm and metallic around his wrist, and a surge of blood rushes right to Dean's already hard dick, 'cause oh, it's gonna be that kinda night, huh? 

Smirking wide, Dean glances down and then his brow furrows when he notices that it's a watch and not some kinda handcuff thing. His breath puffs out in the cold air, and he just … sort of blinks for a second wondering what it's supposed to be. 

Momentary reflection doesn't reveal any kinda enlightenment, so Dean looks up at Cas, tilting his head and holding up his wrist. “What’s that for?” 

Theres an indulgent smile on Cas's lips now, a small one, mostly in the crinkling of his eyes. “It's a gift,” he says, and Dean blinks again. 

A warm feeling spreads in his chest, but there's gotta be something more to this than Cas giving him his watch. “Uh, thanks. But, um, there a reason you're suddenly handing over the watch I've never seen you take off?”

“You're going to need it tonight, and,” Cas's cheeks turn an uncharacteristic pink. “I thought you might like to keep the reminder … for when you go back to school.”

“Cas,” Dean's voice sounds sappy even to his own ears, and it's reflected back at him in the soft look on Cas's face. 

There’s so damn much to unpack in what Cas is offering. Cas wants to give him a memento—Cas wants him to  _ wear _ something of his when he's away, and there's something incredibly romantic about that. Dean might protest his distaste for chick flicks, but everyone who knows him well knows he's a sucker for a rom-com. So this? Melts Dean into a puddle of soupy goo, and that's before his brain even makes the connection between the watch and their plans tonight.

“Patience,” he breathes, clenching his thighs together a little involuntarily as he shifts. They're still standing in the doorway just letting heat escape, and Dean wants Cas to take him inside and shut them away from the world right freakin’ now. “The—so what? The watch has something to do with teaching me more about bein’ patient?”

The smile on Cas's lips turns wicked, all sex and filthy promises, and it’s like the air gets sucked right out of Dean's lungs. “It does,” he says, voice every bit as dirty as his smile. “And it's already started.” 

“Yeah? You gonna let me in and show me how, or am I just gonna stand out here freezing all night?” 

It’s unfair how something so small as Cas taking a step toward him can make every part of Dean’s body come into sharp focus, from the slight tremble in his hands to the way he drops his shoulders back a little in anticipation. This is it. 

Leaning in close, right up to Dean’s ear, breath hot, Cas whispers, “Neither.”

Wait—What? “Uhhh?” 

On his way back upright, Cas lets his lips graze Dean’s jaw and the soft rasp of his lips against stubble shivers down Dean’s back, and settles hotly in his gut. 

“Neither,” Cas repeats, leaning against his door frame with his ankles and arms casually crossed, looking so much younger than he usually does. “We’re going out.” 

Dean wets his lips. “We … uh, we are?” 

“We are. There’s an alarm set on that watch to go off in four hours,” Cas says, ducking back inside, grabbing a winter jacket he has hanging up by the door, and then pulling it on as he steps out onto the porch again. 

“What’s in four hours?” 

“Four hours from now is when you can take your clothes off.”

***

An hour and a half later, Dean's never been more aware of his own body and Cas’s proximity to it. All throughout the fancy dinner Cas took him to, Dean’s been varying degrees of hard. He’s also been wishing he’d dressed better, but there’s not much he can do about that. 

Every brush of Cas’s knees against his under the table, every time Cas reaches over to touch his hand as they talk, Dean’s skin prickles with heat that travels straight to his cheeks. He can’t keep his gaze off the way Cas’s eyes sparkle in the candle light. 

Is it weird that Dean loves the way Cas looks at him like he’s the most important thing in the world just as much as he loves it when Cas purposely denies him that look to get him desperate for it? He shifts in his seat trying to get more comfortable in his jeans, face growing hotter when Cas smirks knowingly at him. What do they look like to the other people in this restaurant?

“Dean?” Cas asks, and Dean blinks, noticing the fork full of chocolate cheesecake that Cas is holding out for him. 

Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip before he lets his mouth part, Dean leans forward and Cas slides the metal tines past his lips. The entire time, Dean keeps eyes on the deep blue of Cas’s, watches them darken, and just barely holds back his own smirk as he seals his mouth around the fork. He slowly leans back, scraping the cheesecake into his mouth as he goes—if he’s gonna be on edge this whole time, damn right he’s gonna make sure that Cas is too. 

Sweet rich chocolate melts on Dean’s tongue as he chews, getting comfortable in his seat and feeling smug. ‘Course it doesn’t last nearly as long as he’d like it to. 

Cas offers him another bite, a sexy glint in his eyes that makes Dean nervous. Turns out his gut feeling was dead on because the second Dean's lips close around the fork, Cas's socked foot slides up the inside of his calf. He must've taken off his shoe, and he's not shy at all about what he's doing. 

Heat floods Dean's cheeks, and rushes to his groin—fully hard so fast he's almost dizzy from it. Cas just smirks as he settles his foot in Dean's lap, rubbing the ball of it along the ridge of Dean's cock. Even through a layer of denim and cotton the pressure and friction feels good, and it takes a hell of a lot of concentration for Dean to focus on swallowing properly instead of choking on the rich cheesecake in his mouth.

Dean's fingers grip the table tightly, he's sure if anyone looks over they're gonna know exactly what's going on. Cas presses a little harder, and Dean bites down on the whine he starts to make. “Cas,” Dean pleads, trying to convey with one word and a look just how dangerously close he is to coming in his jeans.

Biting his bottom lip, smirk growing, Cas slides his foot back down Dean's leg. The sudden absence of pressure makes Dean's breath stutter, half-wishing Cas hadn't stopped.

His clothes are suddenly much too hot, and he glances at the watch Cas gave him, still two hours and fifteen minutes to go. The devilish smile Cas gives him when Dean glances up from his wrist definitely doesn't do the situation in his pants any favors. How the hell’s he gonna survive that long?

 

***

A few streets over from their houses, there's a big wooded park with walking trails. It's one of the reasons that their neighborhood is so sought after. Dean's been down all of the trails enough times that he's got them memorized. Hell, his first kiss was in this park.

Long story short, he's been here a million and one times, and even still, this time it feels new. Streetlights illuminate the path every so many feet, sparkling off of the compressed clean white snow underfoot. It's cold, and gorgeous, and still. There's no one else around, and hasn't been in the fifteen minutes that they've been walking together.

Cas's gloved hand is intertwined with Dean's. The extra set of gloves Cas lent him keeps his fingers toasty warm. It's funny that with all of the incredibly dirty sexy things they've done to each other, that this feels so much more intimate.

“How was the drive home?” Cas asks, breaking the quiet.

“Long,” Dean admits, “but good. It was nice to be out on the highway with Baby again.” He glances at Cas from under his lashes. “Bet it would be better if you were in the passenger seat though.” 

Dean really, really likes that image. And the one that follows of going down on Cas, the smell of leather and Cas mingling in his imagination. Fuck.

“Planning a threesome with me and your car, huh?” Cas asks, always endlessly entertained by Dean's obsession with his car.

“Who wouldn't?” Dean smirks, then looks away, glancing at his watch. An hour to go. He already feels like he's crawling out of his skin with need. 

“I've certainly considered it,” Cas says lightly, and damn, there goes his dick perking back up insistently. 

Dean's cheeks flush. It's gettin’ embarrassing, how easy his body reacts to Cas. Like he's sixteen with his first boyfriend ‘stead of nineteen. “Oh yeah?”

Cas's eyes are focused on the path ahead of them, but a smile quirks his lips upward. “You have a gorgeous car, Dean. I can't be the first person to tell you they've thought about fucking you in it.”

A breath rushes from Dean's lungs and he has to adjust himself in his jeans. “Cas,” he whines, “not fair. There's still an hour. You can't just talk dirty to me about my car 'n expect me not to do  _ anything _ about it.”

Cas looks at him then, eyes dark, he stares Dean down as he backs him up against the nearest streetlight pole. God, Cas smells good, his sporty body wash and shampoo just does things to Dean. 

“Who said you couldn't do  _ anything?” _ Smirking and raising a brow at Dean's confusion, Cas elaborates, “I believe my direction was that you couldn't take your clothes off.” 

“I—” Dean doesn't get a chance to voice his thoughts before Cas's mouth is on his, lips cold, tongue hot as it slides across the sensitive seam of Dean's bottom lip. 

Reaching up, he clutches Cas's biceps and closes his eyes. The solid heat of Cas pressed up against him, knees to chest, Cas kissing him demanding and sexy, leather gloves smoothing over Dean's cheeks and cupping his jaw, angling him just right for Cas to delve deeper—Dean melts into it, going pliant and letting Cas take control. 

God he’s missed this—the way his whole body attunes to Cas's, the way his lip tingles when Cas bites down on it and pulls back. The way Cas makes him feel so needy and secure all at once.

“Cas,” Dean sighs, caught up in staring into his eyes, it's too dark even under the street lamp’s glow to make out the blue of his eyes, but the intensity in them is clear as day.

Humming, Cas leans in and kisses him again, slower, and Dean can't help pressing himself closer, hissing at the way Cas's thick thigh feels against his denim trapped swollen cock. 

An image flashes behind his closed eyes—a memory from the summer—the day Cas’d had Dean ride his thigh, told him that it was the only way he’d be allowed to get off. It'd taken him a little longer, but damn if Dean hadn't come just like that, just like Cas’d wanted him to. Sweat tricklin’ down his back, and Cas's fingers gripping bruise-tight on his hips.

Dean tips his head back against the pole, gasping for air, and Cas uses the opportunity to suck kisses along his jaw, down the side of his neck. The icy air on the slick spots Cas leaves behind sends a shiver down Dean's spine, but he tilts his head more and gives Cas better access all the same. “Fuck, please, Cas. Please. I … I need—” 

“Shhh,” Cas sooths, lips closing around Dean's earlobe and sucking it into his hot mouth. He scrapes his teeth gently over the flesh as he pulls away to whisper in Dean's ear, “I'm gonna take care of you, Dean. It's not time yet though, is it?”

“No,” Dean whispers back, eyes squeezing shut as he tries and fails to keep his pout out of his voice. 

“No,” Cas replies, firmer than Dean had. “So just relax and let me—”

“Oh fuck.” Cas's hand cupping him through his pants comes as a total shock to Dean, he pushes into the touch instinctively, rolling up against the pressure and heat of Cas's palm. “Cas,” Dean's hand flies up to tangle in the back of Cas's hair and he pulls him into a frantic kiss. It's hot and biting and Cas's hand doesn't stop moving.

He sucks on Cas's tongue, and clutches at his hair and bicep, entire body tense with a rapidly approaching orgasm. They're in the park, for fuck’s sake. Anyone could be walking down the path, anyone could see them—the thought sends a violent burst of flaming arousal from Dean's gut out through his limbs.

His toes curl in his boots, and he’s so close so incredibly fast. Then just as he nears the point of no return, breaths momentarily held, it all stops. 

Cas steps away from him, and Dean barely manages to keep himself upright, fingers scrabbling against the wood behind him, his eyes blinking sightlessly while his brain tries to catch up. 

“Not fair,” he pants, so turned on that he's aching, so desperate that he has to dig his fingers hard into the pole behind him in order to keep himself from reaching down and ending their whole game with a few quick rubs.

“Completely fair,” Cas says, hands held up defensively, a tiny smirk curling his lips.

“What happened to patience?” Dean asks petulantly, noticing that at least Cas isn't  _ totally _ unaffected, the front of his slacks tents out. 

Cas shrugs a shoulder, “I think the lesson stands. You're  _ patiently  _ waiting to come, aren't you?”

The heat in Cas's words tingles through Dean, and he has to fight down the need to come all over again. “Cas,” he says plaintively, and Cas takes pity. 

He steps closer and gathers up Dean's arms by his wrists, pinning them above his head and removing the temptation. He doesn't touch Dean anywhere else, doesn't even look at him, choosing instead to keep his gaze trained over Dean's shoulder. It's hot, but at the same time it’s weirdly soothing, lets Dean come down from the arousal pulsing through his body. 

After awhile, once he's calm enough, the fact that it's cold as fuck out and he's standing around motionless finally seeps into Dean's awareness. He sags closer to Cas, tucking his cold nose into the collar of Cas's jacket and inhaling deeply before he sighs. “Okay, I'm good.”

“I know,” Cas admits, letting go of Dean's wrists in favor of sliding his arms around Dean's waist. “I felt you relax.” 

Smiling against Cas's collar, Dean hugs him back. “You just wanted to hold me a little longer, huh?” he teases.

“Maybe,” Cas says quietly, letting out a sigh. “Maybe I missed this.”

Dean's smile widens, “Me too.”

For a few long moments, they stay like that until the cold finally starts to be too much, and Dean shivers.

“Let's get you inside and warmed up,” Cas suggests. Dean's lips part on a dirty reply, but he doesn't even get to say it before Cas chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls away. “Not like that, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes,_ Dean chants over and over in his head, bent over the arm of Cas's couch, still wearing every article of clothing he came over sporting, right down to the leather jacket that Cas has a fist clenched in, pushing his chest down against the cushions.

The hard length of Cas's cock rides along the seam of Dean's jeans and fuck what he wouldn't give to feel that skin on skin. Sweat prickles at his temples, and he can feel it sticking his shirt to him. He's burning up, _needs_ Cas's hands on his bare skin more than he's ever needed anything in his whole goddamn life. “God, Cas, I can't … I can't. I need you to fuck me, need you to touch me. I—I can't.”

Cas leans down over him, tugging the wrist that doesn't have his watch on it behind Dean's back, holding it there between them. “Yes, you can, boy,” his voice is dark and hard, and Dean bucks back against him, so fucking aroused. “I know you can be good for me, Dean. How much longer?”

A shuddering breath out, and Dean looks at the watch again. “Elev—” he swallows, throat dry, God that's so long. “Eleven minutes.”

Nosing along the back of his ear, Cas hums. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The pressure of Cas's hips pinning him against the arm of the couch is almost too much, too hot. He's never gonna make it.

“Go wait on the bed, hands above your head. Hold onto the headboard if you need to. I'll be up shortly.”

Just like that, Dean's left panting into the couch cushions, struggling for composure that he's long since lost. Not that he ever has much around Cas anyway. He's wrung out and horny and fuck, he wants to come so damn badly that he can feel it—an insistent throb in his balls, begging for release.

“Dean,” Cas’s tone is a warning and Dean instantly pushes himself up to standing.

“I … yeah. I'm … uh, I'm going,” he takes a quick look at Cas, suit all rumpled, lips all swollen and pink, and barely holds back a whimper that tries to escape him. He looks so damn _good_ like that. One of Cas's eyebrows arches, jolting Dean into motion.

The damp spot in his satiny panties chafes a little against the head of his dick as he climbs the stairs. Biting down on his bottom lip, he crawls into Cas's meticulously made bed.

He's always liked the deep navy duvet Cas has. It makes Cas's eyes look even bluer in the morning with sunlight streaming through his east facing window. That's something else he's missed while he's been away—waking up in Cas's bed.

Dean follows Cas's instructions to the letter, crawling up onto the mattress and sprawling out with his hands above his head. Then he waits. And waits. Every second ticking by seems to draw out longer until he stops trying to count the seconds and just lets himself relax.

He can't speed Cas up, he can't make time turn faster—and right now, with the way Cas has him positioned he can't even _look_ at the time. So he gives in, and floats. Time keeps passing, but Dean's not really aware of it, mind gone blank, breaths slow and even.

He's still rock hard and he's still dying to be _really_ touched, but it's muted. The only thought he can latch onto is be good for Cas: wait.

The second he hears Cas's footsteps creaking down the hall though, everything snaps back into crystal clear focus. Even at his hormonal peak, way before Cas ever looked at him twice, when they were just neighbors and Dean jerked off more than once a day to thoughts of him, he never imagined half of the shit him and Cas get up to.

He definitely never imagined that Cas would give him a whole new appreciation for anticipation, but the moment before Cas walks into the room, while Dean's gut is clenching in excitement, desire, and arousal, he knows that Cas really, really has.

And God, was waiting worth it.

Cas walks in, gorgeous, eyes burning hot, raking over Dean. The lamps on either side of the bed cast a warm glow and long shadows on his face, and this is definitely not the cute, kinda dorky older boyfriend he had dinner and went for a walk with. This is Cas when he's dominant as fuck, and Dean is _so_ into it.

His thighs clamp together a little, he can't help the way his hips jerk up. Cas's gaze flicks impassively down to the straining bulge in Dean's jeans before he turns and walks over to the closet on the left side of the room.

What’s he—?

Meticulously, Cas takes his suit off and hangs each piece of it up until he's left in a pair of black socks, because his feet get cold, and matching boxer briefs and that should be a total turn off—the socks thing—but it's not. It's really, really not. How does he look good in socks and goddamn underwear?

He hasn't even acknowledged Dean yet, and it just cranks up Dean's arousal. Which should honestly be impossible, but he's stopped questioning that sort of thing when it comes to Cas and the things he makes Dean feel.

When Cas turns around again, Dean's breath catches in his throat. Being the focus of Cas's gaze when he's like this is a whole body experience, it sends a trickle of warmth from the base of his skull down and out to his extremities. Jesus, he wants Cas.

“Fuck, you look good spread out on my bed like that. Been so good for me, haven't you, Dean?” Cas walks toward the bed, eyes never leaving Dean's, and it's hard to form a thought other than _yes,_ but he figures that's what Cas is looking for anyway, so he nods.

“Use your words, baby,” Cas demands, reaching the edge of the bed. He crawls up onto the mattress between Dean's legs and runs his hands from Dean's ankles all the way up his thighs until he's thumbing the cut of his hips.

“Yeah, I … fuck, Cas. I've been good.” Dean arches into Cas's palms, and fuck, it's gotta be close to time now.

Up his sides, Cas's hands slide, inside his jacket, but over his t-shirt. Who knew one damn layer could be so fucking infuriating. He's gonna goddamn burn this shirt after tonight.

Cas leans down, mouth just barely touching Dean's. Keeping his hands from reaching for Cas, from sliding over all that tanned toned bare skin takes monumental effort. Not tilting his head up to make Cas kiss him even more so.

Dean's lips buzz, Cas is so close—

The alarm on his watch goes off and Dean lets out a shuddering breath, fucking finally. Cas slides his hand up Dean's arm to his wrist and shuts it off. “Told you that you could do it. Now you just need to keep yourself from coming while I get you good and wet for me.”

Shit. Fuck. Can he even do that? Clearly Cas thinks he can, because he sits back on his heels, kneeling between Dean's legs looking like sex personified. “Clothes off.”

Dean scrambles. He probably looks ridiculous with how eager he is, but he doesn't fucking _care._ His jacket gets thrown off the bed, followed by his t-shirt and socks, then he struggles out of his jeans and he almost forgot about what he was wearing under them until Cas stops him with fingers locked around his wrists.

“Wait,” his eyes are dark with desire, cheeks flushed dark, and Dean's so fucking hard in his silky blue panties. He _wants_ to be naked, but the way Cas is looking at him almost makes it worth the fact that he's not. Cas licks his lips, and Dean wishes he could taste them. “You wore these all night,” Cas states like it isn't obvious. “Fuck, you're so gorgeous, Dean. Do you have any idea how hard you make me?”

A stilted breath punches from Dean's lungs, his cheeks burning. “Probably not as hard as you make me,” he retorts eyes dropping to Cas's chest, struggling for control of his body.

“Dean,” the command in Cas's voice forces Dean to look back up into his eyes. There's a softness there that Cas doesn't usually let show when they're playing like this. “You drive me crazy. I've jerked off more in the last six months thinking about you than I have since I was a teenager. It's safe to say you have a profound effect on me.”

Dean wets his lips and clears his throat, Cas's words shoot a rush of heat right to his dick, making it bob beneath blue satin. “I … can you kiss me? Please?”

Indulgently, Cas does. He kisses Dean deep, and thorough, possessively. Every slide and swirl of his tongue staking a claim on Dean's body, maybe even his soul. For a long while, it's enough—but then Cas lets his hips come into contact with Dean's and suddenly the past four hours of teasing catch right back up with Dean.

He arches his spine, head pushing back into the pillows on a loud moan. It's too much, too good. His eyes squeeze shut and he tries _so hard_ not to come. “Cas if you … ah, if you keep—I'm gonna—”

Cas carefully lifts his body up away from Dean's. “Mmm. Not yet. Haven't even _tasted_ you properly yet. And we both know you're not going to come at least until I'm buried inside that tight ass, blowing my load in you.”

That draws a whine from the back of Dean's throat that he had no hope of controlling. “Yeah, fuck. Want that so bad, Cas. Missed your cock inside me so much.”

Shifting to lay his chest down between Dean's legs, propping himself up on his elbows, Cas groans. “Missed being inside you too,” he admits, nose sliding over the length of Dean's cock.

And God, Dean feels him inhale, and then he lets out a soft little sigh. Dean's dick twitches, he’s so damn desperate, wanting Cas's mouth, wanting _Cas._ “Please, Cas. Need you—I need you.”

Hot—Cas’s mouth is so fucking hot when it opens, sucking wet kisses along Dean's shaft, licking at him, saliva soaking through Dean's panties. He can't help the way his hips wriggle up into it, but he keeps his hands over his head, because Cas didn't say he could touch no matter how much Dean wants to slide his hands into all that thick dark hair.

He settles for watching, eyes glued to the pink of Cas's lips slipping wetly over satin covered hardness. It's a sight that Dean's gonna jack off to for the rest of his damn life, pleasure spiraling through him, tension tightening in his groin. After one more slow sideways suck from the base all the way to the head of Dean's dick, Cas finally, mercifully gives Dean a break.

Trembling, Dean's not much help as Cas peels his panties off. His stomach swoops, lust spiking as Cas manhandles him over onto his hands and knees.

Before he's even fully got his bearings, Cas spreads his fingers over Dean's asscheeks, massaging them, then he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull them apart. The first brush of Cas's tongue sparks brightly along Dean's nerves, the scrape of stubble against his ass so fucking perfect. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

Cas takes his time lapping at Dean's rim, getting him nice and wet and warmed up before he gently pushes his tongue inside. And, fuck, fuck, Dean loves the feel of it. Loves Cas's fucking amazing, long, clever tongue. He knows for a fact he can come with nothing more than Cas eating him out, knows it because over the summer it’d happened more than once. Cas is just so damn good at this.

Shaking and moaning, Dean pushes back against the orgasm rapidly rushing toward him. He can't—he's not allowed, but fuck Cas's tongue is slipping in and out of him, swirling around his rim, and he's so close. “Fuck, love your mouth, Cas. Love … God, I love your mouth,” his voice comes out raspy and broken, barely holding himself back.

Again, right at the edge, Cas pulls away. “Not yet,” he says sternly in reply to Dean's pathetic plea of a whimper. He smacks Dean's ass cheek on his way to reach into the nightstand, and Dean very nearly comes, the slight sting of it zipping through him. Sheer force of will keeps him from spilling all over Cas's navy blanket.

“Good boy,” Cas murmurs, and Dean sinks into the praise.

Two lube soaked fingers push into him moments later and Dean loves the burn of it. Twisting and scissoring, plunging deep, Cas knows just how to touch Dean, just how to make it so fucking good. Sweat’s beaded up all over him, and it drips from his skin, tickling as it rolls down his sides, down his neck. “Please, Cas, please, fuck … ah … ah, fuck me.”

Another finger pushes in, and Dean's gonna lose it, he's never gonna make it. His gut clenches against it, body going taut. He can't even get out the words this time, can't even beg for Cas to stop and let him catch his breath so he doesn't come. Just when he's sure he can't take it, Cas withdraws his fingers.

Tears sting at the corners of Dean's eyes and spill over his cheeks. He almost—he almost—his breath catches on a sob, and then Cas rolls him easily over onto his back, his thumbs brushing under Dean's eyes, wiping the tears away. “Shhhh, you're okay. You did so good, Dean. Such a good boy for me, just like always.”

“I almost—” Dean's voice cracks and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Dean, you didn't, though,” Cas soothes, and it's not like this is the first time Dean's gotten a little teary with intense play, it's just that he doesn't know _why_ he's so worked up about this. It doesn't make sense, but tears keep leaking from beneath his lashes anyway.

Cas presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, his wet cheeks. “Even if you did, you know that would be fine. No one's perfect, though you do come particularly close.”

Letting out a chuckle, Dean relaxes slightly, a tiny smirk curving up his lips. “I know.”

“Do you want me to take it down a notch? Or stop altogether?” Cas asks, sliding his thumbs over Dean's jaw.

“No,” Dean's eyes fly open, focusing quickly on the concern in Cas's blue eyes. “No, I want you to fuck me like you planned. Just got overwhelmed’s all. I'm good now.”

Cas rubs his nose against Dean's. “Promise?”

God, his boyfriend is a dork. An adorable, sweet, dork. “Promise. I swear to God if don't get fucked, I might actually lose my freakin’ mind.”

“Okay,” Cas gives in.

A second later he's kissing Dean again, grinding their hips together, rubbing their cocks between their bellies, the slight rasp of Cas's soft boxer-briefs a hot contrast to Dean's nakedness. Renewed arousal surges in Dean's gut and it's not long before he starts begging again.

Cas doesn't waste any time, doesn't make him wait, he just yanks his underwear off and slicks himself up. Then he folds Dean up, tucking Dean's legs up over his elbows. He pushes right in, one long, thick slide and his hips are flush with Dean's ass.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, drawn out and satisfied. Full like he hasn't been since the last time he saw Cas. Toys just aren't the same, this is so much better.

He blinks his eyes open and Cas is watching his face intently, his lips shiny and parted, tension around his eyes as he holds himself back.

“You feel so good,” Cas breathes out, stretching forward, pressing their mouths together, slickly swirling his tongue around Dean's. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean nods, lips brushing Cas's. “Cas, c’mon. Please. Fuck me. Mmm, need you to fuck me. Make me feel it tomorrow.”

Baring his teeth a little, Cas shifts back, pulling out and pushing in again. Slow shallow thrusts at first that gradually pick up speed and force, and fuck he feels good, feels so good.

Harder, faster, Cas fucks him like he can't get enough—like he'll _never_ get enough. Skin against skin, and their moans echo in the room, rising to a frenzied pitch.

He's wanted this for so damn long, and he loves the way Cas makes him feel. Loves the stretch of his cock dragging inside of him, shoving in hard and fast, over and over. Loves the way Cas watches his face, like Dean's expressions are so hot he has to see them.

Pleasure jolts through him swift and fierce when Cas angles his hips just right, and oh fuck, he loves it. He just—he—

“God, I love you,” Dean cries out, lost in sensation, and Cas's rhythm momentarily falters.

“Dean,” he pants, voice wrecked, fucking Dean just the way he likes it, pushing them both higher and higher.

“Cas, _Cas,_ ” Dean's fingertips ache where he's clutching at the blanket above his head, desperately trying to keep himself from grabbing at Cas. “Need, fuck, God. Come in me. Need you to—” Cas grinds in deep, rolling his hips, and gasping through his release. “Yeah, yeah, fuck, Cas. Just like that, fuck.”

Slowly, Cas guides Dean's legs back down to the bed, barely gives himself time to catch his breath before he carefully pulls out and slides back down Dean's body.

Dean's about five seconds away from coming with nothing more than Cas's hot breath ghosting over his dick. And then Cas licks a slow line up his cock, sucks him into his mouth at the same time as he plunges two fingers inside of him. So wet that the glide is smooth and perfect, lube and come easing the way, and Cas's aim is dead on like always, fingertips massaging relentlessly against Dean's prostate. “Ca—” Dean’s voice catches roughly. _“Cas.”_

Every muscle in his body tightens, lungs freezing in his chest as all of the pleasure coursing through him coalesces tightly in his belly, and then pulses outward in a sparking detonation that blasts through him. His hips twitch up, sliding his cock further into the heat of Cas's mouth as he comes so hard that his vision narrows before his eyes slam shut, euphoric.

Long minutes later, still floating, he struggles to finally pry his eyes open, basking in the warmth of his afterglow. The white ceiling has a crack in the paint that Dean vaguely notices as his breaths even out, limbs heavy and warm, satisfied like he hasn't been lately.

“Took you long enough,” Cas murmurs from beside him, and Dean lazily shifts to look at him. Fuck, he's still so hot, disheveled and sweaty, lips kiss-dark and plush.

“Fuck that was,” Dean trails off, thinking about what just happened, eyes widening when he recalls what he said—and what Cas didn't.

And there goes his afterglow. He'd told Cas he loved him, and Cas didn't—Cas doesn't—

Cupping his cheek, Cas leans in and kisses him softly. “Stop panicking.”

Dean keeps his eyes closed and bites down on his bottom lip, not wanting to sound as pathetic as he feels. “I shouldn't’ve—”

“Dean, look at me,” Cas asks, and Dean blinks his eyes open, stares up into endless blue. “Did you mean it?”

Frowning, Dean drops his gaze. “Obviously, Cas. I wouldn't just say somethin’ like that if I didn't.”

Cas's hand on his chin tips Dean's head back, until he catches his gaze. “The reason I didn't say it back isn't because I don't feel the same. I just … didn't want to say it in the heat of the moment if there was a chance you’d regret it later.” Cas ducks his head. “You're so young and I'm … not. I just,” he sighs and runs his hand through his already messy dark hair.

Realization rocks Dean to his core, his stomach plummeting, “You're worried I'm temporary. That I'll outgrow you or some shit.”

Sighing, Cas finally looks back up at him, painful honesty in his gaze. “Yes.”

“Well, I'm not,” Dean promises, finally reaching up and gripping Cas’s bicep, frowning a little at the square bandage he finds there. Later though, he can ask about it later. “I'm not going anywhere. Being with you—it's different than I've ever felt with anyone. I've wanted you for so long Cas.” Dean's cheeks heat and he really wants to look away, but he makes himself focus. “I'm in this for as long as you want me.”

Cas chews on his lip, still looking torn and Dean wishes that Cas could just read his mind and see for himself the strength of his conviction. “I just don't want you missing out on anything at school. What if you end up resenting me?”

“Not gonna happen.” Dean smiles and kisses Cas. “I partied a lot last year, and yeah, it was fun … but I like the way things are now. I like making time to talk to you on the phone, I like getting A’s in my classes because I’m not showing up hungover. And Cas? I _love_ you.”

The cloudy expression on Cas’s face lightens, his lips curving into a small smile that Dean feels all the way to the tips of his toes. “Has anyone ever told you how smooth you can be?”

“Yes, you asshole. Now tell me you love me too,” Dean demands, eyes narrowing, playful in spite of the way his heart is knocking rapidly against his ribs.

“I love you too,” Cas says, tone warm and sweet, and Dean’s chest warms. God, he hopes Cas says it a lot more often, because he damn well loves hearing it.

He squeezes Cas's bicep a little, grinning, and notices the square patch beneath his palm again. “Hey, what's up with this? D’you get hurt or somethin’?”

Glancing down curiously at his shoulder, Cas's expression clears to understanding, his cheeks flushing adorably dark again. “It's … um, a nicotine patch. I know you don't enjoy the taste or smell … and I started to think I should probably be more cautious about my health since there's someone I,” Cas trails off looking flustered and Dean's heart fucking swells, grows three sizes that day or somethin’ equally dorky.

Cas finds some resolve, “Someone I love, and want to stick around for.”

“Aw, you do love me,” Dean teases, winking at Cas and making light of how deeply touched he really is, because he's already reached his tolerance limit, cheeks as red as Cas's, without a doubt from how they burn.

Rolling his eyes, Cas leans in and kisses him. “I do, asshole. Now tell me you love me too.”

Dean laughs into the kiss, and leans back, loving the sparkle in Cas's eyes, the affection. Hell, “Love you too.”

Maybe things won’t always be this easy, there’s still a lot to figure out; making long distance work, telling Dean’s parents at some point, but he wholeheartedly believes what he’d told Cas. As long as Cas wants him around—this is where Dean wants to be. He loves Cas, and he knows that what they have is special. It’s worth dealing with everything that’ll come along with it because _Cas_ is worth it.

Someday Dean hopes that they’ll get to be together longer than a few hours or days at a time, maybe they'll live together. Waking up next to Cas every morning sounds like an amazing future to Dean. For now though—he can be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'd you think? ;) Don't forget to leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, you should definitely go tell [@thefriendlypigeon](http://thefriendlypigeon.tumblr.com) how beautiful this artwork is. Because wow. *fans self*


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